You always loved how I was so passionate about music. You said it made me normal, because everyone should have something they love. Your passion; writing. You wrote the most fantastical tall tales.

You always asked me, “What’s the difference between music and noise?” I’d always answer, “What’s the difference between writing and doodling?”

But now, I sift through albums, reeling in the passion I once found in them. I flick through my playlist on my computer. Song titles stick in my head. Now you’re gone, I miss you, I’ll always love you. Messages sticking in my head. Love, passion, happiness. These all once came from music. Now I feel different. Shipwrecked, Alone in a crowd, Falling away. Because you’re gone. And I know, you’re never coming back.

What’s the difference between music and noise? Music has meaning. Music has emotion. Music has passion. Noise lacks all of that.

You were my heart. You always were. And I can remember, clear as day, that one day. The day my heart died. The day the music died.